Skeletons curdle behind the flesh,
Tainted browning stains of the breeds,
Who linger along this unearthed road, floating.
With stars slowly falling behind them, in a dim lit sky.

Black shadows drown us,
Blowing a death, whistling through our hair.
Stumbling over this forgotten love.
To Learn that we stop breathing.

And it’s coming, It’s almost near.

Decaying books, passages that write fate in dust
Ruining us, like the first morning coffee
Or the limp cigarette, creeping out from behind your ear

We can run straight through this moon tonight,
Escape it’s delusions
And feel only numb at the end of it.

05/16/2005

Author's Note: work in progress

Posted on 05/16/2005
Copyright © 2024 Sam Roberts